the Wait
by a little confusing
Summary: It began to rain again. There were sounds like a million eggs being cracked open in the sky, and the rain fell in messy, gooey blobs. She was sobbing so vigorously that her teeth were dry. They reminded her of cold Styrofoam.


Rating: PG/PG13

Ships: Implied D/H

Title: **The Wait**

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It felt like a scene in a movie.

She ran through the bodies which littered the field between the Forbidden Forest and Hogwarts, searching frantically for the familiar, unruly black hair. She shuddered as the plethora of corpses, which reminded her strongly of the tubes of bread dough that her mother used to keep in the fridge in case of unexpected company.

She stepped in a puddle, and realized that the indented ground on which she had stepped held a pool of blood like a basin. She immediately turned to the side and retched.

It began to rain again. She knew this rain was different; there were sounds like a million eggs being cracked open in the sky, and the rain fell in messy, gooey blobs that were just as wet as she was. She had to hurry, they would regroup soon, and return to take the castle. Draco, laying bleeding and poisoned on the very top of the Astronomy Tower, had sent her for Harry.

She didn't have much time.

By the time she saw him, laying in the mud, she could hardly breathe. She was sobbing so vigorously that her teeth were dry. They reminded her of cold Styrofoam.

He barely looked like himself anymore. His glasses were crushed into one side of his face, and she could see the broken glass clinging to it like hooks.

"Oh, Harry…" she stammers. This cannot be Harry. He could not be this still boy laying before her. The mind refuses parachute.

He responds only minutely when she holds his hand.

"Draco," he finally rasps out. "he- he didn't fight? He promised- he stayed away, didn't he? Tell me."

"He's up in the castle at this very moment," she says. A half-truth.

"Take me to him?" He needs an escape.

She can do nothing but bury her face in his hair, and shake her head. She can feel an ache and a realization that Harry would never make it back. His shattered body would expire much more quickly if moved, and she herself could not afford the delay. Already, she could see small bursts of light from the Forbidden Forest, signalling the return of Voldemort and his Death Eaters. She had to leave him, very soon.

"I- I never wanted to- to_go-_ in all this… filth. I'm glad it's raining," he said uselessly.

She understands. Like a renewal. Like the way Ophelia floats down the river and feels clean.

"I'm sorry… this is- it's my fault you know. I'm supposed to be the hero. I always _tried_ to be a hero. Now, I feel like I killed something. Like this is a movie, and the audience just… just _left_ before the credits rolled, and every name is my name.

You know, when I was younger, I think everyone thought that after I'd killed Voldemort I'd marry you, and we'd have children, and live somewhere where I could fold into the background of history, fold into newspapers, and fold into myself along with the stale paper laundry.

I wanted to be left alone. Instead, Dumbledore stood over me, and said nonchalantly, "Here are your shoes" -- and I fucking _took_ _them_. When they might have found a footprint of their _own_ to bastardize."

He looked at her, with unseeing eyes. Even through his thick haze, he could sense her panic. She understands now that he wants her to save him. She wanted to _scream_ at him, this is not right. It's not the way it's supposed to be. _Harry_ is the saviour. He was supposed to save _her_. He was supposed to give _her_ an escape, and then emerge victorious, against impossible odds. Now, he was demanding salvation when that's not how the story goes _at all_.

But she had given him no escape; and so he climbed her ribs like a ladder. Clutching to her frail body with an even frailer one.

He knew now that she must leave him. That he had to let her go. That he had to be brave. Because hewas a Gryffindor, and Gryffindors aren't allowed to be selfish.

Time holds him, watching the sky. He can feel his soul scraping heaven's roots. He holds his breath because goodbye is weaved through every one.

The lights from the forest are far too close by now. Tears drip down her face in pale drops. Love and loss and frustration leaking out in the only way they can, and oozing along her face.

"Tell- tell Draco that I love him. And that he should do anything, _anything_ to be happy. Tell Ron… tell him thank you."

She glances a few feet to her right and sees a shock of familiar red hair attached to a head which is attached to nothing.

She merely cries harder and nods without words.

"Is there- can I- Is there anything I can… do? I hate to… _leave_ you," she looks hopelessly at him.

"No. Nothing. I'll watch them come," his words finally seemed hard and sure, and sheseesthat he_is_ the hero he was supposed to be. "I'm waiting," he said to no one. She stared at his face, but he determinedly stared ahead at the Forest. The contrast between the white of his face, and the black of his hair made her think of the fly that had drowned in her milk when she was seven. "Goodbye," he said with finality;

and she ran.

She hurled herself towards the large front doors of the castle, falling over innumerable corpses and, this time, not caring. She sobbed and clawed her way up to the Astronomy Tower, determined to get the message to Draco before The End.

She slowed down before reaching the roof, where a poisoned Draco was laying, and where a frightened fourth year girl named Hagar was doing all she could for him. She had to be strong.

"Harry?" questioned Draco when she entered the room, saying the word much too fast to sound natural.

"No. He… couldn't come."

"Too busy saving the world to take a breather and see me off?" he laughed unnaturally, and ended in a coughing fit.

She ignored the morbid statement and asked soberly, "How is it- very bad?"

"Only now and then; I feels kind of like my veins are being simultaneously torn apart at half inch intervals throughout my body. The rest of the time, it's just… cold."

Another coughing fit, then suddenly desperate, "How's Harry? He's not- He's still alive, isn't he?"

"Yes," she replied, _for now,_ she added silently.

"I knew it. I knew he would. He used to get upset sometimes, and say that he didn't think he could. But I told him. I _knew_ he could. Did you see him? You didn't tell him I'm… that I'm hurt, did you?"

She collapses next to the dwindling life next to her. "No. I didn't say a word. And yes, I saw him. He told me to tell you that he loves you," she took a deep gulp of air, "so much, Draco. So much." She took his icy right hand. People cannot possibly feel this cold. Like someone made a Draco-shaped ice cube tray, and froze water in his skin.

"Can you- help me over to the ledge, so I can see?" He choked out, before another spasm hit his chest with renewed vigour. In the midst of his distraction, she poured her look out onto the floor. The air she was in felt concrete; she was caught. She knew what she must do.

"No. I- I don't want to move you," she told him, "but, I'll watch, and tell you."

"I need- to see- _Harry_," he insisted, and twisted his body so as to look over the edge. She waited for the shout of agony she was sure that he would cry when he saw the scene before him. "Wait- I can't- I can barely see _anything_," he spoke in a strangled voice and again he was wracked with pain. When it was over, Draco was tilting his head back onto the hard stone. Sweat glistened all over his body, and his breathing was harsh. The places where dark shadows usually pooled on his face were replaced with a pale blue. His eyes rolled around the sky like glass marbles under a cup being swiped back and forth on a table. Contained, with regret applied like paste. She thanked whatever god had given him this blindness. She saw a horribleopportunity- and took it.

She looked out into the forest, and saw lights trickling towards the field.

"There are only a few Death Eaters left, and Harry and about seven others from the Order have them surrounded. They're evenly matched, and Harry is going out to Voldemort while the others each take the Death Eaters in pairs."

She could see Harry, propped up amongst the bodies of their friends and enemies. The Death Eaters were quickly making their way over to the place where Harry lay. He stared obstinately straight at them. _Don't let them find him._ she thought, _Please, God, let them pass._

They didn't.

"Voldemort is throwing hexes at Harry, and he's avoiding them, but just barely."

It looked as if they were spitting words at eachother. The sky stretched out, corpse-like and thick. Her heart stopped, and she began speaking more and more quickly, stumbling over her words as she went, flying into hysteria.

"Three of the other Death Eaters have already been captured, and Harry is now firing back at Voldemort with spells of his own."

She could just make out Harry weakly lifting his head, as the sliver of rising sun glinted off of his fractured glasses for a moment.

She began choking on each breath of air she gasped into her lungs.

"Voldemort seems to be stumbling-"

And she was cut off by Draco lowly reciting in triumphal tones, "And so he sees the irony of anyone who has no faith."

There was a flash of green light that shone so bright that even Draco was able to witness it.

"It's finished," whispered Draco, with a smile playing on his pale blue lips, "isn't it?"

"Yes," she said, and was very proud that her voice wavered only a little, "it's finished."

And it was, she knew. The Death Eaters were by now swarming up the great stairwell of the main entrance like bees in a hive.

"I- I don't think I'll- make it until Harry comes,"he was very blue now,"Will you- tell him- Tell him that I love him, and that I'm proud of him. I've always had faith that he would save us. Save me."

"Yes, Draco. We all did."

She couldn't keep talking to Draco like this. She walked to the edge of the tower. As she looked down, Harry's body looked too white against the soupy brown and red of the battleground. Too white, when white was a shade that covered the page, and made eyes pretty; and sat on the skin of a woman waving, with her left hand on the concave curve of an egg-carton full of babies.

Very clean. Like the way Lady Macbeth washes her hands. Like the way Ophelia floats down the river and feels clean.

Footsteps could be heard from the bottom of the tower, and strange, wicked howling that sounded inhuman. Hagar, joined her at the farthest edge of the flat roof tentatively whispered. "Is there anything we can do?"

She thought of Harry, who had so often stared danger in the face, and who died staring death in the face. The brave hero that he had tried to be, and had just fallen short of being. Who showed honour and dignity in defeat. She looked Hagar in her tear-stained face.

"Yes," she whispered to the young girl, and leaned with her back against cool stone, and her hand holding an unconscious Draco's; who's pulse beat very softly, "We can watch them come. And we will. Because we're Gryffindors, and Gryffindors are never scared."

When she finally turned back to Draco's form, it seemed like she was seeing him through blurry wax paper. She looked down at the still, matte, grey eyes and saw peace hanging from them like a swingset. Two drops of blood tumbled from his mouth, shaking their fists at her as they fell.

They sat on either side of Draco, proud, brave, and dry-eyed, staring at the door, where it sat partially open; and ready to pounce. Every one of the most important events of her life replayed before her eyes, and the howls and footsteps on the stairwell sounded like thunder. She thought of her friends, her loves, her family; then picked out the good things and let the rest die.

But some good things died too.

She tilted her face up to the cool sky, where the remains of early-morning stars hung like chandeliers.

"I'm waiting," she whispered.

But she didn't wait long.

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A/N: First fic, so please review and be encouraging!


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